


Your Fault

by Baby_KAZ2Y5



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Short One Shot, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr writing, castiel - Freeform, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 03:15:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19164703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baby_KAZ2Y5/pseuds/Baby_KAZ2Y5
Summary: Comment and leave Kudos.





	Your Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and leave Kudos.

Dean had been waiting for two hours now. Well…an hour and fifty-eight minutes, but close enough. And it wasn’t like Dean was waiting. No…Dean didn’t wait up for people. Except Cas had just found out another angel in his garrison had been killed and had left.  

 

Dean shifted in his seat on the couch, his feet curled under him, the television on, but Dean wasn’t even listening to it. He was listening for the sound of the door to opening, meaning Cas was back. 

 

But Cas didn’t come back when it hit two hours.

 

 Neither did he at two and a half.  

Three hours in, Dean was pacing, his bare feet padding across the room, and it was the only sound except for his breathing. He’d turned the T.V. off when it had hit two hours and thirty minutes. 

 

The floor under him was a dark-ish colour, and had twenty nine tiles leading from the couch to the doorway that lead to the kitchen. 

 

There was a table that was white, darkly coloured in some places, and it had scratch marks on it which Dean couldn’t place. The front table had fifteen markings from where cups had been set down without anything under them. 

 

Dean stopped his pacing suddenly when the door opened, and his mind went blank when he saw Cas; his hair was ruffled, his tie loose like it had been yanked, he was missing his trench-coat. 

 

He looked like hell.

 

Dean rushed forward and embraced Cas, his fingers gripping onto the fabric of Cas’ shirt, but when Cas didn’t react, Dean pulled back slightly and his mind caught up with everything he was seeing.

 

“Are you drunk…”  he trailed out of the question. Of course Cas was. Anyone would be able to tell. “Cas…what did you do?” he asks instead and Cas seems to finally focus on him.  

 

“Maybe I am,” he slurred, and Dean half wondered how much he even had to drink to get drunk. Dean took hold of his shoulder and looked at him, worry evident on his face, but Cas stayed still….like nothing bothered him.  

 

“Cas…you gotta snap out of it, man,” he said and Cas’ eyes flickered to his, and Dean found he liked it better when he was still as stone, and not looking at Dean with all the hate in the world.  

 

“They’re dead because of me,” Cas spoke, his words still slurred, his hate and venom laced them. “Because I rebelled. And I rebelled because of  you ,” he says, and Dean’s chest tightens at the way Cas says ‘you’. 

 

Dean shook his head, “No. You rebelled because you…because…because you didn’t want the apocalypse to happen,” he answers, his voice breaking. Cas snorts and then his face falls into pure anger. 

 

“It’s your fault,” Cas mutters and pushes past Dean. Dean stays still…he doesn’t move when he hears the door of Cas’ room slam shut. 

 He doesn’t move when he hears a broken sob.

 

 He doesn’t move when he hears Sam’s footsteps shuffle behind him, and then hears Sam’s soothing words to Cas.  

 

He doesn’t know how long it is, but eventually he feels a hand on his shoulder and he turns. He knows it isn’t Cas, but he hopes, and his heart drops when he sees it’s just Sam. Dean shakes his head and shrugs Sam’s hand off, making his way to the couch, and he curls up on it. 

 

It’s then that everything hits him. His eyes fill with tears and they spill over. He doesn’t even try to hold back as Cas’ voice echoes in his head.

 

_“It’s your fault.”_

 

Dean cries for the first time in years, sitting there on the couch, his legs pulled against his chest. They’re deep, bone wracking sobs - the ones you get after a day of holding everything you’ve felt you’ve done wrong back, or when a family member dies.

 

It’s the first time he’s cried since John told him he needed to stop, he need to grow up, he was being a child, his mother would’ve hated it.

 

_ “It’s all your fault.” _


End file.
